


Lonely At The Top

by Janet_Coleman_Sides



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Loneliness, Sympathy, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet_Coleman_Sides/pseuds/Janet_Coleman_Sides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kes comes to the Captain about another crewmember whose needs aren't being met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely At The Top

_I'm the captain. This is what I wanted. I'm the captain._

The door to my quarters glides shut behind me. I feel, almost tangibly, the weight of on-duty sloughing off my shoulders, and I almost wish it wouldn't go...I would take a second shift right now, if Chakotay would allow it. Hah. 

I'm hungry, and I know I should go and eat with other people, visibly enjoying Neelix's latest nauseating masterpiece. Holding up morale, or my end of it. But I can't bear the awkward sudden silence when I enter the room, the averted eyes, the carefully neutral conversations when they resume. And I've already forced some mercifully unidentifiable goulash down today, pantomiming satisfaction. Does it fool anyone? I don't know. If only I could have some of that eggs Benedict that Mark used to - 

I shouldn't have thought of that. I shouldn't have thought of Mark _or_ of eggs Benedict. Now hunger, or hun _gers,_ will define me until I sleep, and probably even then. My hungers will define me until the next crisis comes to hold my attention. 

To placate at least one hunger, I force myself to slowly chew and swallow bland ration fare, all the while perversely bringing to my mind's tongue the savor of homemade Hollandaise, the texture of Canadian bacon...and the tender, perfect asparagus Mark always made to go alongside...he knew how I loved it. 

Well, he still knows, doesn't he? "Ah, yes - Kathryn. I remember how before she disappeared, she loved asparagus with her breakfast, just after waking me up to make love..." 

Yes...(...when we slept in the same bed, did we ever miss a morning? I doubt it. I always woke first, the early sun striping in over my skin, stretching languorously, feeling alive, alive...I would turn, look at his face, smooth and new in sleep...look at the sun's fingers caressing his back or his belly, depending on how he had fidgeted in the night...stealing all the covers so chaotically that by morning he didn't have any either. Sometimes I would be awakened in the night by a tug at my hair - when Mark was mistaking it, in his sleep, for something he could wrap himself in...) 

Would there ever have come a time when these things annoyed me? I don't know. We didn't get a chance to find out...(...the mornings when he ended up on his back before I woke...I loved those. Peaceful as a baby, but his cock already hard - I would contemplate it, rigid and silky, rearing up from his body, alien and beautiful. And then, unable to resist, I would reach out and touch it, as lightly as possible, just one fingertip whispering along the swollen length. If I did this long enough, I would be rewarded by soft, sleeping sounds of pleasure from him, and a glistening drop of moisture at the tip of his cock, and then I would simply _have_ to touch my tongue to it, because it always tasted so good...) 

I reach up to the thick knots at the back of my head, freeing my hair to come tumbling down. It feels as though a large hand has suddenly stopped gripping my skull. 

Just as I realize that I have been sitting there staring at the empty ration container for several zombie minutes, the door chime sounds, startling me badly. I wheel around, my hair sailing around with me in a wide arc, and I drop out of the chair into a defensive crouch. 

As I belatedly make the connection, realizing it was just someone asking to come in, the chime sounds again. I press my lips together, angry with myself for reacting like some martial-arts heroine in a bad holofilm. 

"Come in," I call out sharply, and stand up straight.The door glides open. A pixie stands framed by it, peering at me in bemusement. "Kes," I rap out, as crisply as possible. "Come in." 

She refuses my offer of refreshments (not that there's much to offer, but civilization's rules of hospitality die hard) and sits, and her eyes never once leave my face. "What is it?" I say at last, feeling displaced by her scrutiny. 

"You look like a different woman, Captain," she murmurs; "it's very flattering." My hand rises without my volition to my hair as I sit opposite her. I feel abruptly, unaccountably flustered. 

" - thank you....What can I do for you, Kes?" She leans forward, so earnest, her eyes devouring my face. For such a small woman, she has a presence which quietly yet thoroughly commands a room. 

"Captain...do you remember when I came to see you, and I asked if you would want to know if there were a member of your crew..." 

"...whose needs weren't being met? Yes, of course...has there been some new problem with the doctor? Or are you - " 

"No, Captain," she says, gently, her very gentleness compelling me to be silent and allow her to speak. "You worry so much about everyone else...I'm talking about _you."_

"...me?" I say, stupidly, in a small voice. My god, what is it about Kes that disarms me so completely? I would never have let Neelix stay on the ship if Kes hadn't followed up his blustering sales pitch with her heartfelt plea to "be a part of our journey". I realized then that I would probably never be able to refuse her anything. 

"I sometimes get...what I can only describe as an _impression_ of you, Captain," Kes goes on, "not all the time, of course... I don't know whether the incidents have anything in common or not. But I know that right now you're lonely, and you're scared, and you miss closeness from someone else..." I open my mouth to deny what she's saying - then close it again, without speaking, and I look down at my hands. 

"You're right," I say, to my hands. "But this is a difficult situation for someone in my position. Even if there were someone aboard who interested me" - I carefully do not think about Chakotay \- "it's, well, it's very inappropriate, Kes, they're all under my command... I have to maintain a certain distance. It's not only Starfleet protocol, it's common sense. Surely you can see that." 

I hear the rustle as Kes rises from her seat and moves toward me. I'm suddenly certain that she means to touch me, and the notion divides me: half uncertain, uncomfortable... half hoping she wants more than simply to touch. 

But she sits next to me on the little couch, and continues to stare into my eyes as I turn to look at her, and does nothing more.And suddenly it all smashes over me in a rush, a maelstrom like an ocean wave, the loneliness, the separation from the people I let down, my people who I've stranded along with myself out in the dark where we'll never get home and never be able to tell the ones we left behind how we love them... 

I gasp in pain, and suddenly I am crying, crying in front of someone else... in front of Kes. I wrap my arms around myself, holding myself tightly for fear that I might fly apart. I am compressing myself, a crushing geological weight, squeezing my heart into a cold diamond... 

With startling strength, she grasps one of my wrists, then the other, pulling my arms away from their rigid posture around myself. When she lets them go, she's inside them as they lock down again, and she embraces me as fiercely as I do her. I let go, utterly. Holding her, letting her hold me, needing her to hold me, I cry and cry against Kes' shoulder, feeling the burden ease. As the knots in my chest loosen, I realize she's stroking my hair...and I feel my own hands change their intent on her back. They don't move, but where my fingers were gripping her for support, they're now touching her, tasting as well as they can through the fabric of her clothes.I pull back a little, staring into her face. I notice, almost abstractly, how lovely that face is, but I murmur, "Kes... I'm not sure what to do... I'm not sure whether I should-" 

She stops my words with a kiss. Totally nonplussed, I hold perfectly still as her soft lips nibble gently at my own. How delicious she smells. I'm responding, almost instantly... my body suffusing with heat.When the kiss breaks - at what point did I begin to participate in it? I can't remember now - I whisper, a little breathless, "You seem to know me better than I do myself." 

"I'm an Ocampa, Captain," she reminds me, her low voice thrumming with warm colors. "We don't have time to deny our needs." 

This sends a pang through me. I had almost forgotten. How much time _does_ she have? I don't even know how old she is...But the train of thought is put aside as she stands up, tugging gently at my hand, smiling at me. 

_I shouldn't do this. Even if she isn't Fleet, she's my responsibility. I'm the captain. I'm the -_

"Captain," says Kes, still holding my hand as I sit looking up at her, "you're responsible for us all, even Neelix and me, since we've joined you. But," she leans down, so that her face is inches from my own, "you're also responsible for yourself. Nothing will be compromised. You're the Captain, but you're a woman, too... you can't afford to sacrifice one to the other." 

I stare at her for long moments, weighing her words. Then I return her gentle smile, and stand up, and allow her to lead me to my bed. 

"Computer, dim the lights, please," she asks the air, so politely, and the answering twitter accompanies the gradual twilight in my quarters. I stand there, not quite knowing where to begin. My experience with women is severely limited - a few furtive efforts when I was in the Academy, with my best friend... that was so long ago. I find myself admiring Kes, really allowing myself to _look_ at her, thoroughly, with the assessing eyes of a would-be lover. 

Objectively, it can't be denied that she's a pretty little thing, with her elfin features, her short blond hair, her slender, bouncy little body - but I think these superficialities are deceptive. The directness of her gaze, her full, sensual lips and soft voice filled with music... and her gentle, insistent logic, applied to injustices as she sees them, have much more to do with her impact on me. She defends that prickly, simulated doctor with the ferocity of a tigress - 

She's reaching out to the seals of my uniform, opening them so deftly that I hardly realize she's done it till the garment is falling away... and I am naked, standing there at the foot of my bed, letting Kes and the stars stare at me. 

Almost unable to help it - almost - I inhale, standing straight, strangely excited by her scrutiny, absurdly proud of my body. She looks me up and down with an expression of frank admiration, and I begin to feel the heat, temporarily scared away, returning. My nipples spring erect, plucked taut by the cool air, and by her scrutiny... 

I want to see her. I want to look at her. Hesitantly I step forward, and before I can begin to try to figure out her clothing, she has managed to shed it. 

Ahhh...of course she is beautiful. She's tiny, but she glows with health and strength - she looks far more fragile dressed than undressed. Her perfect, firm little breasts are tipped with pale nipples, hard like mine...my gaze trails lower, and I am startled by the absence of pubic hair. _She's not a child, is she -?_

I don't know if she was reading my mind or just following my eyes, but she reassures me. "I've been studying human anatomy," she says, with a touch of humor lacing through her words, "and I know that adult human women have pubic hair, like you do. That's not an Ocampa secondary sex characteristic, though. We mature very quickly..." 

I nod, stifling a sigh of relief, and sit on the edge of the bed, still filling my eyes with her. She turns to face me, standing still now for _my_ scrutiny, smiling with a little pride of her own. Then I reach out, passing the point of no return, and touch her firm, flat belly...she has no navel. My fingers roam the smooth, blank expanse...then trail higher, caressing the lower curve of her left breast. She inhales audibly, through her nose... then presses my shoulder gently so that I lie down on my back. I slide back so that my feet are up on the bed with the rest of me. 

She climbs onto the bed herself, sitting next to me, gazing down into my eyes...and then, without warning, straddles me, sitting on my belly - a shock of heat as her naked sex presses against my skin \- and she's kissing me, fiercely, burying her hands in my hair. I gasp into her mouth, arching up against her, at the sudden onslaught, at the ferocity of my response. I feel my vulva opening like a flower, moist with a sudden rush of desire... 

I want to reciprocate, to do something in return, but when I try to caress her back, she breaks the kiss enough to whisper, "no... relax, let me make love to you..." She makes it sound like a request, but it may as well be a command. My hands fall back to the bed in obedience, my arms spread as though I am being crucified with pleasure. 

And she is fierce again, hungry - lips and teeth lightly scoring my neck, which arches back to grant her freer access. She rocks her sex against my belly, urgently - I feel wetness spreading from her to lubricate my skin, feel what must be her clitoris rubbing me... it feels large, larger than mine, throbbing and feverish. She's panting now, her eyes tightly closed. I whimper, my hips beginning to rock back and forth, enjoying the buildup of tension, wanting more, more...I can smell her juices, salt-sweet, almost spicy, an aroma that makes my mouth water, rising from where they're spread on my skin... 

Abruptly, she slides down so that her mouth can reach my breasts... my legs spread wide and drawn back so that her smooth vulva makes contact with my own. I cry out sharply at the intensity of it, the sultry heat, our juices mingling together as she captures my right nipple between her lips and worries it with her tongue. As I realize that her larger clitoris is pressing mine like a finger, like a tongue, she begins the rhythm, sliding against me with insistent delicacy, and I'm moaning, perhaps I've been moaning for awhile now, tingling flowing through me like windblown sparks, just her clit licking at mine......and I know she won't stop, I know she will keep rubbing and rubbing at me as I build and build toward orgasm, it's so like a tongue, my eyes squeeze shut, I spread wider and wider for it, and Kes' mouth releases my nipple as she gasps, sounds mounting to little shrieks as she flicks at my clit with her own. She's going to come, and knowing it drives me right to the edge...in my mind's eye, I look down to see Mark crouched between my open legs, licking at me, tongue driving against me, look down to meet 

_[Chakotay's]_

eyes - !! 

I'm coming, I'm coming, I arch back so hard my elbows sink into the bed, howling, fireball, jerking against Kes, the throbbing heat exploding into an inferno, a shock wave, leaving me trembling, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. 

Atop me, Kes sighs in contentment. She must have come while I was blinded by my own pleasure...She climbs off me and snuggles against me as I slowly lower my shaking legs to the bed. 

After a few moments, I grope for a blanket and pull it over the both of us, and turn to hold Kes. It feels so good to hold someone...in a way, it almost feels better than the mighty empress orgasm I've just had. She's warm and soft, and nestles against me trustingly. Perhaps she's already fallen asleep. It's difficult to tell. 

"Computer," I call out, voice slurred with pleasure and fatigue, "lights off." 

After a moment, I add, "Please."


End file.
